The Conclusion to the Name Change Saga
So, today was my court date!
I managed to catch the DART to Union Station and walk to the courthouse relatively without incident (thankfully, I'd had the good sense, when writing down the directions, to note which street I was supposed to be walking towards, to put me going in the right direction. It wouldn't have ended well otherwise.).
I get to the courthouse and all I know is that my petition is stamped with "303rd", so I'm fairly sure I'm supposed to be at the 303rd courtroom at 9:40. I'd been to that room before, but I couldn't remember what floor it was on. Which led to an interesting encounter in the elevator where I followed this woman who was probably about my age onto the elevator and then we both kind of just stared at the buttons. She's like, "I don't know where I'm going." I was all, "Me neither." She says, "I thought I was going to the 8th floor, but there is no 8th floor." So I hazard a guess at 3, since it was the 303rd court, and she seems to decide that's as good a guess as any for her, too, because she doesn't push anything. I take one step off on the third floor and know that's not right -- I'd recognize the right floor when I saw it from the glass-windowed room that's next to the elevators; she wanders off and I get back on and go up one floor and there it is.
So I find the courtroom I was at before. Now, this sounds random but is important: The way the place was set up, there's two courtrooms next to each other, opposite the way you come in. Their doors are farthest from the hallway, and the two benches, one apiece, are in the middle. 303 was on the left, but there was a bunch of people on the left-hand bench, so I go and I sit on the right-hand bench and call my mom and go "I made it!" (and this was at about 9:10 or 9:15) and clearly I spoke too soon, because here's what happened next.
I waited and waited, and people went in and out of 303. By 9:35 I was getting a little antsy since I had no idea what the whole procedure was or anything. At 9:40, after I'd moved over to the other bench since all the other people had left, I started getting really nervous. A few minutes after that, I happened to see someone go over and look at a piece of paper on the wall next to the door that I hadn't seen before since I hadn't made it all the way over to the left side of the room. Turns out it was the list of cases on the docket for that courtroom -- and my number wasn't on it.
I looked in the courtroom and no one was in there. At that point, despite the fact that I'd been almost certain I was in the right place and so didn't want to walk away in case someone showed up, I was getting really worried, so I went over to the clerk's office at the far right of the room, all "I was supposed to be somewhere at 9:40 and I'm not sure where" and kind of freaking out.
The woman there directs me all the way down to the other end of the hall, first door on the right, which is labeled "303rd" also (the difference was something like "associate" vs "district" or something along those lines, which I had no way of knowing off the stamp on my petition). In short, I couldn't bring myself to ask if I was in the right place, but by not being in the right place, I made it infinitely worse for myself. Ah, crippling social anxiety, such a catch-22.
Anyway, I end up at the right room, five or ten minutes late. I check the list and, yep, I'm there, and -- oh noes! -- there's people scheduled (mostly divorces) every five minutes until 10:30 or so. So along with freaking out about whether they'd let me in somewhere else in the list, I wasn't sure where I was supposed to go or what I was supposed to do (in general, and being late made it worse): wait in the hall? go into the courtroom while the custody things and such were going on? I had not a clue.
So after wandering around in the hallway outside the courtroom (for what was only about 15 or 20 minutes but felt like days) waiting for a lull in the action inside so I could go in, I finally go over to the window (the clerk-office-type-thing, I guess it must have been, for the 302nd court -- the ones next to the elevator that helped me the first time I was there), and freak out to them. "I, uh, I was supposed to be over there (*points*) at 9:40 and now I'm late and WHAT DO I DO. D:" Thankfully, she figured out what I wanted to know and was all "You can go in there and wait. You may have to go at the end of the docket, but you can go in and wait." (And yep, once again, if only I'd asked first and wasted time later, but hindsight is 20/20.)
So I go in and wait and it (namely, the couple of custody issues I was privy to) was actually really interesting. Dysfunctional Families are Dysfunctional. The first was this guy who wanted custody of his kids, and the mom's in prison so the kids are in foster care, and apparently the dad was a dip initially and shirked responsibility because he himself had been in prison at one point but it didn't sound like he was at the time the kids went into foster care, he was just a dip. But I think has a shot at getting custody since he learned better now, and is gonna get a job and stuff; at least that's what it sounded like. What it definitely sounded like was "highly dysfunctional family", lol. And then the second one, the mom wasn't there because she was in the ICU with a confidential illness. So yeah, it was actually surprisingly interesting.
Anyway, eventually everyone else's turn had come and the judge was like "Are you just here to watch?" and I was all "lol, no, I was supposed to be here at 9:40 but I was mistakenly over at the other 303rd courtroom....". Which went over fine and the last person did their thing and then it was my turn. I get up there, hand her the order, and she looks at it or whatever, puts it in this green folder, and says "Take this over to the 303rd courtroom and give it to a bailiff." Then, "That's where you were before, right?" "Yeah." "*g* Good, then you know where it is." Lol.
So I go over there and wander inside. I have no idea what a bailiff actually looks like, but there wasn't anyone in there anyway -- and then, yay, someone comes in. "Getting a divorce?" (No, but you're probably the dozenth person to ask me that between this time and the last.) "No, name change." "Oh, okay." And she directs me where to put the folder, tells me to sit down and that the necessary people will be there soon.
I sit and she sits at a desk off to the left (I think it was the same woman; I never look anyone in the eyes, so I couldn't say for sure) and we chat. "So you're gonna be Justin?" "Yes ma'am." ("You look more like a Justin than a [girlname]." "I think so.") And she asked if my parents were okay with it, and told me a crazy story about someone who wanted to change their name and while they were in court their parents showed up and begged the judge not to do it. (Answer, if you were wondering: The judge had to do it, because the person was of age and could make their own decisions.) And then she's all "Oh, the judge is here, let's stand." :D (I really appreciated her pointing that out to me in a way that was direct but didn't make me feel stupid. She was pretty awesome.)
So I go up to the judge and she starts swearing me in and I was mentally freaking a little because, for the life of me, I couldn't remember the correct answer to "Do you swear to tell the truth,...". I clearly don't watch enough legal shows. I could have been swearing to anything, as I spent that whole spiel trying to think of my line. I finally went with "...I do", which sounds wrong because it sounds like you're getting married or something, but as far as I and my parents can figure it was the right answer. It worked, at least. No issues after that (she seemed a little unsure about whether I thought I was getting my gender changed as well, but she mostly mumbled about that to herself and worked it all out for herself, which was pleasant), and she signed the thing and (at about 100mph) tells me where to go to wait for whoever to bring the order and stuff (something along the lines of "*unintelligible* ...all the way down the hall and through the glass doors". Naturally, I missed it, but I'd left before I processed it enough to realize I'd missed it.
I wander in the hallway for a minute or so, freaking yet again, not wanting to stray too far in case I can catch whoever walking out of the courtroom. Someone comes up to me and is all "did she tell you to go to the clerk's office [or something like that]?" And I'm like "Ummmm, I don't know, maybe, she kind of said it really fast--". Turns out the strange lady worked at said office, and was headed that way, so we walk over there and she hooks me up with the order when it comes. And then I didn't have copies or money for the copier (me? learn from my mistakes? riiiiight.), so she made me a copy and certified it and then I was on my way. And I didn't get on the wrong train going home, so it was a success.
In short, I am legally Justin James [lastname]. *happy dance*
I managed to catch the DART to Union Station and walk to the courthouse relatively without incident (thankfully, I'd had the good sense, when writing down the directions, to note which street I was supposed to be walking towards, to put me going in the right direction. It wouldn't have ended well otherwise.).
I get to the courthouse and all I know is that my petition is stamped with "303rd", so I'm fairly sure I'm supposed to be at the 303rd courtroom at 9:40. I'd been to that room before, but I couldn't remember what floor it was on. Which led to an interesting encounter in the elevator where I followed this woman who was probably about my age onto the elevator and then we both kind of just stared at the buttons. She's like, "I don't know where I'm going." I was all, "Me neither." She says, "I thought I was going to the 8th floor, but there is no 8th floor." So I hazard a guess at 3, since it was the 303rd court, and she seems to decide that's as good a guess as any for her, too, because she doesn't push anything. I take one step off on the third floor and know that's not right -- I'd recognize the right floor when I saw it from the glass-windowed room that's next to the elevators; she wanders off and I get back on and go up one floor and there it is.
So I find the courtroom I was at before. Now, this sounds random but is important: The way the place was set up, there's two courtrooms next to each other, opposite the way you come in. Their doors are farthest from the hallway, and the two benches, one apiece, are in the middle. 303 was on the left, but there was a bunch of people on the left-hand bench, so I go and I sit on the right-hand bench and call my mom and go "I made it!" (and this was at about 9:10 or 9:15) and clearly I spoke too soon, because here's what happened next.
I waited and waited, and people went in and out of 303. By 9:35 I was getting a little antsy since I had no idea what the whole procedure was or anything. At 9:40, after I'd moved over to the other bench since all the other people had left, I started getting really nervous. A few minutes after that, I happened to see someone go over and look at a piece of paper on the wall next to the door that I hadn't seen before since I hadn't made it all the way over to the left side of the room. Turns out it was the list of cases on the docket for that courtroom -- and my number wasn't on it.
I looked in the courtroom and no one was in there. At that point, despite the fact that I'd been almost certain I was in the right place and so didn't want to walk away in case someone showed up, I was getting really worried, so I went over to the clerk's office at the far right of the room, all "I was supposed to be somewhere at 9:40 and I'm not sure where" and kind of freaking out.
The woman there directs me all the way down to the other end of the hall, first door on the right, which is labeled "303rd" also (the difference was something like "associate" vs "district" or something along those lines, which I had no way of knowing off the stamp on my petition). In short, I couldn't bring myself to ask if I was in the right place, but by not being in the right place, I made it infinitely worse for myself. Ah, crippling social anxiety, such a catch-22.
Anyway, I end up at the right room, five or ten minutes late. I check the list and, yep, I'm there, and -- oh noes! -- there's people scheduled (mostly divorces) every five minutes until 10:30 or so. So along with freaking out about whether they'd let me in somewhere else in the list, I wasn't sure where I was supposed to go or what I was supposed to do (in general, and being late made it worse): wait in the hall? go into the courtroom while the custody things and such were going on? I had not a clue.
So after wandering around in the hallway outside the courtroom (for what was only about 15 or 20 minutes but felt like days) waiting for a lull in the action inside so I could go in, I finally go over to the window (the clerk-office-type-thing, I guess it must have been, for the 302nd court -- the ones next to the elevator that helped me the first time I was there), and freak out to them. "I, uh, I was supposed to be over there (*points*) at 9:40 and now I'm late and WHAT DO I DO. D:" Thankfully, she figured out what I wanted to know and was all "You can go in there and wait. You may have to go at the end of the docket, but you can go in and wait." (And yep, once again, if only I'd asked first and wasted time later, but hindsight is 20/20.)
So I go in and wait and it (namely, the couple of custody issues I was privy to) was actually really interesting. Dysfunctional Families are Dysfunctional. The first was this guy who wanted custody of his kids, and the mom's in prison so the kids are in foster care, and apparently the dad was a dip initially and shirked responsibility because he himself had been in prison at one point but it didn't sound like he was at the time the kids went into foster care, he was just a dip. But I think has a shot at getting custody since he learned better now, and is gonna get a job and stuff; at least that's what it sounded like. What it definitely sounded like was "highly dysfunctional family", lol. And then the second one, the mom wasn't there because she was in the ICU with a confidential illness. So yeah, it was actually surprisingly interesting.
Anyway, eventually everyone else's turn had come and the judge was like "Are you just here to watch?" and I was all "lol, no, I was supposed to be here at 9:40 but I was mistakenly over at the other 303rd courtroom....". Which went over fine and the last person did their thing and then it was my turn. I get up there, hand her the order, and she looks at it or whatever, puts it in this green folder, and says "Take this over to the 303rd courtroom and give it to a bailiff." Then, "That's where you were before, right?" "Yeah." "*g* Good, then you know where it is." Lol.
So I go over there and wander inside. I have no idea what a bailiff actually looks like, but there wasn't anyone in there anyway -- and then, yay, someone comes in. "Getting a divorce?" (No, but you're probably the dozenth person to ask me that between this time and the last.) "No, name change." "Oh, okay." And she directs me where to put the folder, tells me to sit down and that the necessary people will be there soon.
I sit and she sits at a desk off to the left (I think it was the same woman; I never look anyone in the eyes, so I couldn't say for sure) and we chat. "So you're gonna be Justin?" "Yes ma'am." ("You look more like a Justin than a [girlname]." "I think so.") And she asked if my parents were okay with it, and told me a crazy story about someone who wanted to change their name and while they were in court their parents showed up and begged the judge not to do it. (Answer, if you were wondering: The judge had to do it, because the person was of age and could make their own decisions.) And then she's all "Oh, the judge is here, let's stand." :D (I really appreciated her pointing that out to me in a way that was direct but didn't make me feel stupid. She was pretty awesome.)
So I go up to the judge and she starts swearing me in and I was mentally freaking a little because, for the life of me, I couldn't remember the correct answer to "Do you swear to tell the truth,...". I clearly don't watch enough legal shows. I could have been swearing to anything, as I spent that whole spiel trying to think of my line. I finally went with "...I do", which sounds wrong because it sounds like you're getting married or something, but as far as I and my parents can figure it was the right answer. It worked, at least. No issues after that (she seemed a little unsure about whether I thought I was getting my gender changed as well, but she mostly mumbled about that to herself and worked it all out for herself, which was pleasant), and she signed the thing and (at about 100mph) tells me where to go to wait for whoever to bring the order and stuff (something along the lines of "*unintelligible* ...all the way down the hall and through the glass doors". Naturally, I missed it, but I'd left before I processed it enough to realize I'd missed it.
I wander in the hallway for a minute or so, freaking yet again, not wanting to stray too far in case I can catch whoever walking out of the courtroom. Someone comes up to me and is all "did she tell you to go to the clerk's office [or something like that]?" And I'm like "Ummmm, I don't know, maybe, she kind of said it really fast--". Turns out the strange lady worked at said office, and was headed that way, so we walk over there and she hooks me up with the order when it comes. And then I didn't have copies or money for the copier (me? learn from my mistakes? riiiiight.), so she made me a copy and certified it and then I was on my way. And I didn't get on the wrong train going home, so it was a success.
In short, I am legally Justin James [lastname]. *happy dance*